


In Between the Hours

by destielpasta



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bunker Fic, Emotional Sex, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 02:38:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1114504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destielpasta/pseuds/destielpasta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel lets Dean take of him, knowing it's what the hunter needs in the aftermath of Kevin's death and Sam's disappearance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Between the Hours

“Sit.”

Castiel let go of Dean’s hand, drawing out the touch at the fingertips. He obeyed, perching on the low wooden stool Dean had brought to the bathroom with him. Dean busied himself with the medicine cabinet, pulling out a blue can of shaving cream, a razor, and several towels. He ran the hot water until it steamed, wetting and wringing out one of the wash cloths, his calloused hands red under the heat.

“Dean—“ 

“Cas,” Dean interrupted, gripping the edge of the sink and looking in the mirror, knuckles white, “This— this is me being selfish. Just let me do this for you." 

Dean looked at Castiel through the mirror, waiting for his approval. Castiel wasn’t operating under any illusions, this wasn’t about the growing amount of stubble on his face. At some point Dean would have to talk about Sam. And Kevin. Castiel saw it when Dean poured just one more glass of whiskey, each swallow more labored than the last. He felt it when Dean wrapped his legs around him and pressed his palms into his shoulder blades when they made love. He knew the time was coming when Dean would look at him and not be there anymore. Finally, he would be gone, and Castiel still wondered whether the hunter would take him with him.

For now, he nodded his assent.

Dean huffed a response, wordlessly finishing his work. Dean held the wet cloth over the lower half of Castiel’s face, leaving his mouth and nose clear. He pressed lightly, letting the steam and moisture seep into the skin. Castiel’s shoulders drooped, previously unknown tension released. 

Far from nervous at the thought of a blade at his neck, the actual shaving seemed like an afterthought. Castiel relaxed into the gentle scrape of the razor and the sound of Dean’s light breathing. Somewhere in the bunker, Dean had left the old record player going, the indiscernible vocals and guitar riffs filtering in through the silence. 

Far more interesting were Dean’s hands; the way they brushed over the newly shaven skin, tracing the path of the razor as he wiped away the excess shaving cream on a towel draped over his shoulder. The way they rested in the hair at the nape of his neck, turning his head to expose more skin and better the angle. Castiel let his eyes fall shut, making himself pliable to Dean’s ministrations.

The rasp of the razor fell away, replaced by another one of Dean’s hands, smoothing over the skin of Castiel’s neck and moving to massage at his shoulders. Castiel sighed and let his head fall back. He heard the sound of something clattering to the floor and a low thump and then Dean’s mouth was at his neck, kissing and licking at the still sensitive skin. 

“Dean,” Castiel gasped as Dean wrapped his arms around him and sucked lightly at his pulse point.

Dean muttered something incomprehensible into his neck, but it sounded familiar, the words _stay_ and _please_ apparent. 

Dean’s breath was coming ragged now. Hastily, he stood up, leaving Castiel cold without the contact. Castiel was already up and moving to close the short distance between them before Dean took Castiel’s face in his hands, kissing him hard on the mouth before he softened, allowing Dean to ease his mouth open and deepen the kiss.  They moaned together, the vibrations shooting down Castiel’s arms and sending fire to his fingertips.

Dean pressed forward, and the corner of the wall colliding with Castiel’s back. He winced; Dean whispered some kind of apology into his mouth, and Cas answered by hooking a leg around Dean, pulling him closer and nipping gently at Dean’s lower lip. Dean’s hands were everywhere; cool from the water and shaving, sending jolts of electricity up Cas’s sides. His own stubble scraped against Castiel’s smooth face, burning and smarting as they rutted against each other. Dean rolled his hips and swallowed every moan as tension built in Castiel’s abdomen, their arousals both evident in the press of their bodies. 

Dean tried to lift Castiel off the floor but the angle was off, so they laughed and tripped as Dean walked them to his bedroom without breaking their kiss. They collapsed on the bed, breathless and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Dean crawled to Cas’s side, pressing soft, damp kisses to his neck while moving one hand under his thin t-shirt. The music carried on, closer now but muffled under the sounds of rustling sheets and breathy moans. 

Castiel gasped, his voice hoarse, when Dean’s calloused finger grazed over a nipple, feathering over the soft skin of his abdomen before dipping under the waistband of his jeans, tangling in the soft hair just above his cock. Castiel eyes fell shut, fingers grasping for the nape of Dean’s neck as he absorbed the sensation. 

This was the Dean he had come to know. Ever since they had fallen into bed together, barely drunk off of cheap bourbon and slurring out half-assed confessions against each other’s skin, Dean made it their sanctuary. No thoughts, no regrets, and Castiel was reluctant to disturb that peace.

Impatient, Castiel pulled Dean on top of him, letting Dean fall between his legs and curve into him. Somehow, Dean had removed both their shirts, and halfway unbuttoned Castiel’s jeans. After another press of their mouths, Dean reached between them to work their jeans down just enough so that their cocks could press together, delicious heat flooding Castiel’s limbs at the new friction.  

Dean slowed after that, settling on his forearms so that his face hovered above Castiel’s, dipping down to press chaste kisses to his cheeks and forehead, hips slowly rocking in tiny movements.

“Dean— ah—“ Castiel pressed up, trying to quicken Dean’s pace.

“Shhh,” Dean said, smoothing his hands up Castiel’s arms until their fingers laced together above Castiel’s head. “We’ve got some time. Just relax.”

Castiel squeezed Dean’s hands and captured his mouth again, pouring everything into the kiss that they kept unsaid. Dean nipped at his lips, sucking until he coaxed out a throaty moan, hips starting to move with less control. Castiel wrapped his legs around him, pulling him closer. Dean broke away with a gasp to reach between them, taking both their cocks in hand. 

They were both so close, and Castiel reveled in the noises Dean made, every moan and exhalation without inhibition. He came first, clenching his legs around Dean’s back as his hips bucked into his hand, sending the other man over the edge in seconds.

Dean collapsed beside him, grabbing a handful of tissues from the nigh stand to clean them up. He did so quickly and without comment, pulling Castiel against him as soon as he was done, his stomach pressed against the angel’s back. Exhaustion relaxed into both their muscles, the reality of the time setting in.

Castiel tried to say something before falling asleep, the residue of the shaving cream still itching at his neck as Dean nuzzled into the now-smooth skin. His words were stopped by the movement of Dean’s hand against his heart; a slow stroking motion of his thumb that read _Soon. For now can we just be?_

 


End file.
